Endless Longings
by LastGasp
Summary: Christine has always been Erik's Obsession, but can he leave the thought of her behind for someone just as intriguing? Leroux, Kay, and ALW based. EOW,RC Rated M
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Her husband would be home soon and she dreaded it with every sip she took. She held onto the wall as she made her way to the half full bottle of wine. Filling her glass once again, she heard the front door slam, and her husband speaking to one of their servants. He sounded like he was in a good mood, but God knows if he would be when he saw she was dipping into his aged wine.

She made no attempt to hide the evidence as her husband stalked up the steps. She decided to play it up as she held the glass in her hand. He opened the tall door and was about to speak but was swiftly cut off by her words.

"Jacob," She purred in his ear, "did I ever tell you how happy I was to be your wife?"

"You are drunk, Madeline, leave me alone." He pushed her aside and walked past her to the washroom.

Drunk? Of course she was drunk! She was forced into this Godforsaken marriage by her old hag of a husband. He was thirty-two years older than she, and no doubt wanted her for something she was not. She had no intention of marrying at such a young age.

She was seventeen when she was forced to marry Jacob; he was then forty-nine. Even then she was disgusted at the age difference. She did not have much of a choice when it came to marriage. She longed to wait until she was in love with a man who would undoubtedly love her back, but instead her parent's estate relied on her marrying a man of wealth and power. Jacob was just that. He had power, of course, he was a marquis.

Although Madeline's family was of lower stature than the Marquis, he wanted a young, attractive bride. It was rumored around Paris that he was searching for a new young wife to replace his wife who had died during child birth twenty-eight years before. With this in mind, her parents sent her to various masquerades and balls, where she was only to keep her attention on him.

Her parents' consistence paid off and soon Madeline had married Jacob, despite her lack of feelings for him. She was only doing her duty to her parents by doing so.

She shrugged her shoulders. At least she would not need to touch him tonight or have his hands roaming all over her. Just the thought of that was enough to make her cringe.

Jacob came from the washroom pulling his long gray hair back into a neat ponytail with a ribbon. His chubby face was enhanced by the lack of hair in his face.

"Madeline, get dressed." He demanded when he saw she was clad in nothing but her petticoat. "Philippe will be here shortly. We are having supper and going over business plans. I would like you to join us, but I insist you act as a lady. Do not embarrass me, Maddy, or I swear to you, your life from here on out with be hell!"

"Well, perhaps, I do not want to join?" She smiled deviously.

"You will do as I say!" With that he left the room leaving her gulping down the last droplets of the red wine.

She slammed the goblet on the side table and made her way to the armoire. After opening it she decided on a burgundy silk dress with matching gloves. Surely this was not embarrassing to Jacob; it was one of his favorite dresses he had given her.

As Jacob made his way down to the den, he could feel a nervousness coming over his body. She was drunk, once again. He could not remember a time when she was the slightest bit sober, and even then, she was much too difficult. Shortly the Count and his younger brother would be here and his wife was as drunk as a beggar.

Genevieve would not have done this to him. She was the perfect wife, so perfect she would have never talked back in rebellion just to hear herself speak. When she spoke it was with purpose and poise. It was never like the childish ranting of Madeline. He felt more like her father than her husband. Perhaps he was too old to have taken such a young bride. Three years ago it seemed like a good idea, but now, his health has been drained from the stress Madeline has put him through.

It was important for the Marquis to have an heir, but at this point he had found it impossible for that to go on. He did have a child at one point in time, but it was the child who killed Genevieve. He felt that he could not go on raising a child with such a mark on the world. He had chosen never to talk of that incident as long as he should live.

The door bell chimed signaling his partner had arrived. They were there to discuss the purchase of his estate in Italy. The final propositions were going to be thought out at dinner.

The Count and Jacob had been friends since childhood and have made several business escapades together. They always worked so comfortable with one another.

"Ah, Philippe! Nice to see you my old friend!" Jacob shook his old friend's hand with vigor, plastering a smile upon his face.

Looking past the Count he saw the young Viscount, "Raoul! Look how you've grown! How nice to see you!"

"Thank you, Monsieur." Raoul calmly shook the Marquis' hand and nodded his head politely.

Jacob had not seen Raoul since he was a child, but he could tell he grew up well. He carried himself as a real gentleman should.

They proceeded to the dining room, with Raoul following close behind.

"So, Jacob, where is this young bride of yours? I would love to meet her." Philippe gave Jacob a sly smile.

"One moment please?" Jacob excused himself from his friend and his brother and began to speak with one of the female servants of the house.

He took her to the side and spoke quietly, "Will you fetch my wife, please? Make sure she is not that much of a wreck if you would? Thank you."

The servant nodded and scurried off to find Madeline. He joined up with his partners once more and sat with them at the table. The candles were lit and used as centerpieces in between two small bouquets of red roses. The silverware was solid gold and the plates were trimmed in gold.

"Only the best for my friends." Jacob smiled motioning toward the table setting.

"You sent for me, my love?" Madeline entered the room, her soft purr still ringing in her husband's ears.

"Ah, yes, my dear. These are our guests. Count Philippe De Chagny and his younger brother Raoul De Chagny. Come sit." Jacob had to hand it to her. She should have been a Prima Donna rather than his wife, because she could act better than any of them.

Once she spoke, Raoul's ears perked. His eyes never left her until she sat next to her husband. Even then, his eyes still lingered on her.

She noticed, of course, and decided that the evening would be much more entertaining if she played it up a bit more. She smiled politely at Raoul. He realized what he was doing. Being a well bred gentleman, he quickly tore his eyes away and attempted to listen to the conversation between the Marquis and his brother.

For one brief moment, Madeline thought she lost him. His interest seemed to turn, but he was not away for long. Soon his eyes made their way back to hers. They seemed to have spoken with out words. She smoothly drank from her glass and licked the remainder of the liquid from her lips. Her mouth turned into a small almost undetectable smirk making her eyes glow with fervor.

Raoul swallowed hard. What was this woman doing? Surely, she felt something for her husband. She was very young; there was no doubt about that. Raoul's face went red, his palms became clammy.

"Raoul is the Opera Populaire's new Patron. Isn't that right my brother?" The Marquis and Philippe stared at him intently.

Raoul looked up at then, but did not hear a word they had been saying. Swallowing hard, he asked, "What was the question?"

"You are the new Patron for the Opera Populaire, are you not, my brother?"

"Oh yes. Yes I am."

"Mm…the Opera Populaire. I was always fond of the arts, especially the opera." Madeline spoke low and smiled, "Perhaps one day I can join you for an opera? I have always been fond of _Faust_."

"It would be my pleasure," Raoul swallowed once again, "Of course if Monsieur Blanc does not mind?"

"Oh not at all my boy! I trust you will take good care of my wife. She is young she needs to experience some of the spectacles of life." Jacob trustingly.

Madeline fought with her subconscious not to make a fool of her self and her husband. Her sobriety was slowly coming back to her, but there was plenty of time she just felt like crawling into a tiny ball and falling into a deep sleep. But this did not keep her from playing her game. If anything, the game she was playing with Raoul was keeping her from feeling the least bit intoxicated.

After hours of long conversation that meant nothing to Madeline, it was time for her husband's guests to leave.

"Goodnight! It was a pleasure to meet you both!" She exclaimed rather loudly causing her husband to look at her with a small amount of dismay in his eyes.

Once in the carriage, the Vicomte settled and stared into the moonlight with a grin stretching from ear to ear. As the moonlight caressed his young brother's face, Philippe noticed the euphoria written upon it.

"She is a beautiful one, is she not? I daresay you should stay away from that one, she is nothing but trouble."

"Philippe, I was not thinking of her. She is but a new acquaintance I have come to acquire. I am a man of honor. I do not take what is not mine, brother." Raoul disregarded his brother's warning and began to out the small windows of the carriage.

* * *

Erik found himself in the wall of the chapel of the Opera House with little Christine on the other side of the trap door. Pacing back and forth he decided he would speak with her tonight. He would tell her everything. He would explain that he was not her long awaited Angel of Music, he would tell her of his love for her, and that he was just a mere monster of a man.

His hand ran through his black hair roughly in anticipation. He shook his head and stood at the trap door.

"Christine." His voice was like heaven in Christine's ears.

"Oh, Angel, I thought you would not come today. I needed some one to talk to. Madame Giry was disappointed in all of us today. Meg says she's just stressed, but she seems to be angry with only me."

Christine's childish problems caused Erik to abandon all thought of his confessions and he began to listen. It was the least he could do for her being that he lied to her for most of her years here.

"I am sure you did fine, Christine. We must start with your lessons."

"Oui, Angel. I shall do my best. I only want to please you."

How mindless has he made this girl? Of course she did not have much of a mind when she came to live here, but then again what child would, being that her father had died leaving her alone in the world. He was now her protector, her guardian, her Angel of Music.

His eyes clenched tightly closed, and he heart felt as if it might burst out of his chest as she began her first line of his favorite song, _Think of Me._

He did not know how much longer he could put on this cruel façade. She was so innocent, so lovely; he could not dare take that away from her. Of course, he had plenty of time to think about what he would do about it, not tonight. Oh god, not tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Viscount paced back and forth in front of the cathedral as he pulled his pocket watch from his waist coat. His hands were cold and clammy. They shook as they held the small silver clock. What was he thinking? He must have gone completely mad.

Suddenly, his thoughts broke away from him as he saw a woman rushing up the steps adorned in all black. Madeline…The name rang in his mind. A woman had not had this sort of affect on him since…well since Christine. They were so different from one another, yet they still had an affect that caused him to disregard all common sense.

"Monsieur, it is a pleasure to see you here!" Madeline flashed a smile so charming that Raoul's heart skipped a beat.

As a real gentleman should, Raoul took her hand and landed a polite kiss on her soft glove.

"Here to pray, Monsieur?" Madeline winked in the young Viscount's direction.

Feeling all the fears of moments earlier evaporate with her smooth voice, Raoul decided that this was not such a bad idea. Perhaps, he would even find love once again.

"Well, Madame, I was hoping you would know what I am doing here?" He said raising one eye brow in her direction causing her to blush slightly.

"Indeed, let us walk. It is a fine day for a walk, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed." Raoul grinned and took her arm in his and they proceeded down the cathedral steps.

"So, where is the Marquis? What did you tell him?"

Madeline's head tilted back in a hearty laugh. "Oh, Raoul, I took care of it. I told him I needed some fresh air and I was going to take a walk. Which is not far from the truth, I must say." Raoul nodded in satisfaction.

"It is not like we are doing anything wrong by just enjoying each other's company, are we?"

Raoul looked down at the young lady on his arm, "I should say we are not."

Her blonde hair glistened in the sunlight. She did not wear it up like most of the women in there society. He was beginning to fall for her. Even though she was confined to her husband, she still felt so free. Her long hair fell just below her shoulders and her green eyes were sometimes so intense that Raoul could have sworn she could see what he was thinking. Her shape was full and womanly. She seemed too perfect for reality.

He felt her small hand wrap around the joint of his elbow. The grip she had on him grew tighter and tighter.

"Raoul," she managed to squeak out as he abruptly turned into the alleyway next to the Opera Garnier, "Where are we going?"

"Just follow me." He answered confidently. She smiled at his smug exterior.

He led her to a dead end, she laughed as they approached it. In the privacy of the alley way, Raoul took her in his arms. Madeline pushed his shaggy brown hair from obstructing her view of his soft blue eyes. She ran her hand down his perfect cheek. Everything about this man was perfect. He had a wonderfully chiseled face and a young hard body, which was nothing like her husband's.

"You know, Raoul, this is getting a little risqué. Perhaps we are enjoying one another's company just a little too much." She murmured into his ear. He could feel her warm breath on the side of his face, causing his heart to speed up in anticipation.

In one swift motion on Raoul's part, she was up against the brick wall trapped by his body pressed against hers. His head leaned forward and his lips took hers. They collided in a fit of passion. His hands roamed up and down her body, feeling every curve her body had to offer him. Her back arched responding to every caress.

The young Viscount's hand began to pull up her skirt as she wrapped her leg around his. With a free hand, he began to loosen his trousers, trying to release the desire that he had bottled up since he met her that night at dinner.

Suddenly, there was a black hooded figure that jetted passed them and just as quickly disappeared. Although it was quick, it was enough to dissuade them from their recent activities.

"What was that?" Madeline asked Raoul as she was straightening her skirt, "You don't think…"

"No, he did not even seem to notice we were here. Come, I am sure Jacob is expecting you home by now." Raoul held out his hand and sorrowfully Madeline took it. Raoul led her to the mouth of the alley.

"You know, I would have liked to walk you home, but I do not think that it would be wise." Raoul leaned over and kissed Madeline softly on the lips. "Au revoir, mon amour."

Madeline had contacted the Vicomte through her maid, Amelie. Amelie was loyal and sworn to secrecy to her. There were certain advantages to being the maid to the Marquis' wife. She was more of her friend than she was a servant. They spoke as though they were equals and she would have to be mad to give that up. She would never tell the Marquis of what Madeline was up to right that very moment.

* * *

Erik snorted out in perverse amusement as he saw the couple mauling each other in the alley way. By their dress, it looked as though they were members of high society. No doubt they were having an affair. No faithful couple would have hidden in a dark and dirty alleyway, especially a couple of high class.

Erik sighed as he proceeded swiftly to his hidden door in the wall of the Opera House. He had not even touched a woman in that manner his whole life. It is not that he did not want to; God knows he had wanted to. The right half of his face was mangled distorted flesh. No woman, mask or no mask, would want anything to do with a monster like him. It seemed that a piece of glass had been what separated him from the other world, especially from Christine.

As long as she thought he was her Angel of Music then he was able to be close to her. He was rather thankful to her father for having told her the story of the Angel and Little Lotte.

Erik made his way in the cool damp corridors to his underground lake, the only safe refuge he had known. Although the walls were deteriorating and the cold could chill one's bones, Erik had found a strange satisfying comfort in his home on the lake. He spent years of his life creating a shrine to music. Everything about his home was beautiful. There were golden candelabrums scattered through out the lair. Piles of literature books lined the walls and his organ was in the center of it all standing like a musical giant among the artwork and the candles.

For years, solitude was all he desired, and he had it. It was now that he wanted so much more. He needed it. In his twenty-eight years of life, he could not remember even once feeling the warmth of a kind hand on his shoulder or any other kind hearted touch for that matter. It seemed that for the past three months since he had tutored Christine, every time he stood in the chapel with her close enough to touch; it has been harder and harder not to reveal himself for who he really was to her. The past week had almost been unbearable on Erik.

The boat reached the edge of the bank. Erik sighed again as he sat upon his organ bench. He had started several operas and they had all been discarded to the floor but it was _Don Juan Triumphant_ with its taunting scores that kept him coming back for more. It was his masterpiece. The score burst with defiance, treachery, and a menacing tune that filled the room with an erotic aura. A woman who heard it would have to be careful not to be seduced by the music.

He worked on Act 3 for hours, scratching the notes onto his parchment; until his eyes could no longer stay open. He fell into a deep sleep with his head resting on the organ's keys.

"Erik!" At the sound of the voice, he awoke in a start.

He stood, knocking the stool over, ready to pounce on whoever dared to enter his sanctuary. His eyes narrowed into a penetrating yellow glow, and his long fingers wrapped themselves around his Punjab lasso, ready to strike.

* * *

"Hello Jacob…Philippe…" Madeline greeted her husband and his friend while pulling off her silken gloves. She buried her glowing smile beneath a serious façade.

"That was a rather long walk…wouldn't you say Philippe?" Philippe took his eyes away from the paper work for a moment and studied her for a while. His eyes bore into her as she attempted to act nonchalant.

"Yes, I should say it was."

"What are you saying my dear husband? Am I not allowed to get fresh air if I so wish?"

"Well there is only so much in this part of the city a woman could enjoy and it takes a whole half an hour at the most. So I would just like to know what it was you were up to."

"Oh, Jacob, will you stop prying at me in front of the company? I thought you had better sense than this." She stomped up the steps leaving Philippe and Jacob to get back to their paper work.

"Jacob, Raoul informed me that the opera house is showing _Faust_ in five days and he wanted to know if you and Madeline would like to join him."

Jacob looked up from his paperwork, "Tell him that I am grateful he thought of us, but I was never one for an opera." He looked up from his work once again, "Perhaps he could take Maddy along?"

"Do you think that is such a good idea? People might get the wrong impression."

"Oh, I do not care what impression the public gets at this point, I just need to have one night of peace." Philippe's expression turned from stone to laughter at the words of his friend's reasoning.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about taking down this chapter and then putting it back up again. I realized there was somethings I wanted to add at the end, but was too anxious to wait to put it up. Sorry once again. Enjoy! Please R&R!

LastGasp

* * *

Chapter 3

"Erik!" The voice called out once again. It was a female voice, furious and stern, but the recognition caused Erik to relax. It was none other than Antoinette, the ballet mistress.

"Erik!" She came in through the door, slamming it behind her. She stood in front of him with one arm perched on her hip. "What were you thinking today? You could have killed someone! Even if it was only Carlotta! You are turning into the monster _they_ make you out to be!"

The words came out of her mouth fast and harsh causing each syllable to ring in his ears.

"Madame…I simply…" Erik tried to calmly explain his actions, but it seemed though he was always fierce and defiant, Antoinette was the one person that caused him to cower like a child.

"I know what you were trying to do and it worked! Christine will be singing tonight as you wished. I hope you are happy." Antoinette allowed her normally stern face to show light of the moment with a faint smile.

"Believe me, Madame, I am. I must go to her!" He was about to make his way out of the house on the lake, but Madame Giry blocked the door.

"No, Erik! This has got to stop!" The smile faded from his face and he stared at her with wide eyes.

"What do you mean?" His shoulders collapsed in defeat and his head slunk over.

"It is not fair for you to go parading around her as the Angel of Music. She is young and naïve, and you are just teasing her, she has no idea who you really are. She is not yours Erik, and never can be. Nor would she want to now that you have lied to her for so long."

This angered Erik to the point of blind rage. Absent mindedly, his hand touched the masked side of his face. She was lucky that she was the one who saved his life all those years ago.

"Madame, you do not understand. She is my life, everything I do revolves around her. I can not go on with out her in my life."

"Erik, she is a mere child. She does not know what you want from her, let alone understand."

Erik stood tall and glared into the ballet mistress' icy blue eyes with his smoldering yellow orbs. It was as if a war of fire and ice was raging on between them. "Then Madame, I shall tell her everything, tomorrow night after her debut. If you would excuse me, Madame?"

Without waiting for her to abandon her post at the doorway, he pushed past her and slammed the door behind him, leaving Antoinette alone in his music room.

As Erik made his way to the surface Antoinette's words rang in his ears. How could he let it get this far? Antoinette had never denied him anything, and now she was denying him the only thing that could bring him to the surface? Surely, Christine was not like the rest of the human race. Her loneliness mirrored his own. He knew how she longed for someone to share her life with and he was that someone.

Every step he took brought him closer to her, closer to her radiating light. He could feel the weight of the darkness lifting from his dauntingly broad shoulders. Erik could hear the soft lulling of her voice as he entered the corridor which led to her quarters. That is his girl, practicing, always practicing. He had taught her well.

As he reached the secret passage into her room, which was strategically hidden behind an enormous mirror framed in decorative brass, her voice enchanted him. His eyes closed as she sung the last verse in perfect technique.

"Christine…" He called out softly, breathlessly.

"Angel!" She smiled. "Have you heard?"

"Yes, Christine. This is what we have been working towards." He grinned behind the reflecting mirror.

Christine's smile faded as she lifted her eyes to her ceiling, "Angel, I do not think I am ready. I fear I will disappoint you."

"Christine, you will sing beautifully, as always. I will be watching. You could never disappoint me."

"Then, Angel, I will sing for you. I will always sing for you!" She promised him with the enthusiasm of a child.

* * *

Madeline climbed up the seemingly endless stairs to the attic. After her encounter with Jacob downstairs in front of the Count, she needed to leave reality for just a little while. It was her refuge from her husband. The musty smell was a comfort to her, almost intoxicating. She huddled in the corner of the dark dirty attic and opened her book. Writing with smooth strokes, she wrote of the day and of Raoul. Her feelings poured out of her pencil just as a woman would talk to her peer, the book compensating for her lack of companionship.

Most women had acquaintances and in some instances close friendships with the wives of other upper class gentlemen, but Madeline distanced herself from the other women. She did not know why, but she found them rather rude to people of lower stature.

Jacob did not know of her hiding place, for if he did, she would not be there. She hummed softly as she wrote.

_August 28, 1887_

_Jacob does not know this, but he opened up a whole new world for me, the Vicomte De Chagny. He is the most amazing man I have ever met. His lips and eyes can make my heart do flips in my chest. I feel like a girl again when I am with him, instead of a married woman. _

_Jacob is downstairs with Philippe, Raoul's brother, smoking and talking business. All men ever do is talk business. They can be so dull sometimes, and they are not that bright, although, Philippe seemed to know something. His eyes rested on me in an eerie manner. I hope he does not cause Jacob to suspect something. Right now, however, I need something to take the edge off, perhaps some whiskey._

_Madeline_

She closed her journal and sat straight up, trying to remember where she hid her stash the last time she had come to the dark attic. Madeline stood, moving small wooden crates that looked as though they had been undisturbed for years in search of her beloved stash.

Suddenly, she noticed a small envelope with the word "Father" on the front. Her brow wrinkled in curiosity. It must have fallen out of one of the crates she had moved. Slowly she knelt to pick it up.

Madeline noticed that the name had been written in a very neat cursive. She took out the small sheet of yellowed paper, unfolded it. It read:

_June 18, 1875_

_Father,_

_I know you think I have done wrong by you. I have tried to be a normal boy, but you will not let me. Why will you not let me? I was just a new born when Mother died. I could not help it. I do not understand why you hate me so and you keep me locked up in this cold attic like a hideous beast. One day father, I will leave my mark on this world that you so seem so intent on hiding me from. One day father, you will feel the chill of frozen hands around your fat throat, and they will be mine. One day father, you will be sorry. _

_Signed,_

_The Beast in the Attic_

Madeline's jaw dropped open. Whose letter was this and did this "father" ever get this letter? She strategically placed the letter back into one of the crates and made her way down the stairwell into the hallway which led to her bedchamber. She would definitely go back to find more clues as to who wrote that sad angry letter. With the strange letter weighing on her mind, she hoped would fall asleep before Jacob came upstairs for bed.

It seemed like mere minutes that she closed her eyes when Jacob came into the room. Making no attempt to keep the noise down, he shuffled into the washroom. She could hear the sickening sound of the flesh of his hands slapping the flabby wrinkled cheeks of his face in an attempt to wash it. She squeezed her eyes closed tighter and tried to envision what it would be like to be the wife of Raoul De Chagny.

She pictured herself curled up in white silken sheets with her body entangled with his, melting into him. Wisps of her soft blonde hair intertwined with his brown locks. She smiled to herself as the vision escalated to something more passionate, but it quickly dissipated when the weight of her husband sunk the mattress.

"Maddy?" Philippe leaned over to whisper in her ear. She cringed when she felt the hot breath hit her ear.

"Yes?"

"You would not do anything to cause me harm would you? I mean if I were to allow you to go with the Vicomte to the opera tomorrow night?" He placed a hand on her hip and lightly caressed the curve of her body.

A wide smile spread across her normally cringing face as she sat up quickly and spun to meet him in an overly excited embrace, "No! I would not, no. I would love to see the opera!"

"Good, then I shall inform Vicomte tomorrow when he arrives with the blue prints tomorrow."

* * *

"You must rest now, Christine."

"Oh, I will my Angel! I am glad you came to me tonight! I was so worried you would not return to me now that I will finally be the lead."

Erik smiled in sheer satisfaction, "No, I could never leave you. Now, rest. Goodnight, Christine."

"Angel?" Christine called out meekly as she got into her bed.

"Yes?" Erik turned from the mirror and proceeded to leave.

"I…I love you."

His knees buckled causing him to have to grab on to the damp stone wall for balance. His hand went to his chest clutching the heart that so long yearned for love, "Chris…Christine, I will come to you tomorrow night after your performance."

"Yes, Angel. Goodnight." She pulled the covers up over her small frame and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Erik rested his eyes on her for a while longer, watching as she slept…so peacefully. Everything about her intrigued him. Her long caramel hair consumed her pillow and her dainty hands lifted on her chest with every breath she took. He longed to touch her hair, her hands, her soft lips. Soon enough, he would have her for his own and she would come with him willingly. For she loved him, she had told him so.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It was seconds before Christine was supposed to make her debut appearance as the Prima Donna at the night's gala performance. Her heart pounded in her throat making it hard for her to swallow. Butterflies whipped their way up into a frenzy in her stomach. Thoughts flew through her mind like a whirlwind. Could she really do this? Will the audience find her appealing? What will they think?

The only thing that helped her to remain calm was her Angel of Music. She would sing for him and only him tonight as she would for all eternity. The anticipation was excruciating as she waited impatiently behind the red velvet curtain. Was this what Carlotta felt every night before her performance? As the music was queued and the curtains were being drawn, Christine took one last deep breath and closed her eyes.

As she sang, the ballerinas, whom she was once a part of, danced around her, but she did not notice. She sang for Him and only for Him. Her eyes were closed and the notes poured out of her with fervor. Every note, every key, was exactly how her Angel had taught her.

Raoul stood up as Christine had finished her first song, dropping Madeline's hand that he had grasped for the majority of the evening to applaud for the theatre riffraff. Madeline peered harshly at Christine, jealous and protective over her new found affair.

"Bravo! Christine!" Raoul smiled and laughed heartily.

Madeline took hold of his arm and pulled him back down on the seat beside her and attempted to take his hand but he deflected her offer unknowingly.

"I can't believe it is actually her. Little Lotte!"

As Raoul watched mesmerized by the petite woman on stage, Madeline grew agitated. She began to draw her attention away from the performance on stage to her surroundings. A sudden movement from the corner of her sight caused her to turn around abruptly. Without warning, a dark figure stalked passed the box and something strange pulled Madeline toward it. Something dark and mysterious came over her forcing her to leave the side of her precious Vicomte.

She tiptoed behind the dark shadow. The figure seemed to be male and moved swiftly and strategically almost like a cat. As she crept behind him, her heart began to thump violently in her chest, but it was not out of fear, but from anticipation.

At the end of the corridor, Madeline tripped and flung herself into the wall to keep herself steady. The figure abruptly stopped and turned in her direction. She gasped and fled the other way.

Erik smiled to himself. It was always a satisfying to strike fear into those who always thought themselves better than the rest of society. He knew the woman was following him the entire time, he just thought it to be more interesting in allowing her to do so.

Before entering his secret passageway, he paused to hear the finale of Christine's debut. He closed his eyes and allowed the notes to dance freely in his mind. Her voice always enchanted him and it had not failed yet. With every note, he loved her more.

It would be a while until she would be able to leave with him unnoticed, but he wanted to make sure his house on the underground lake would be suitable for a female visitor. He rushed down the passageways and his heart felt a bit lighter this time than it had ever felt before on this trip down to darkness. She loved him…

After the gala, Raoul instructed Madeline to go to the carriage.

"Raoul," She pouted, "why will you not be joining me?"

"I have some business to attend to, Madeline. I will be there in a few minutes." He kissed her on the forehead.

"You best be careful, Monsieur, people do know my husband around here." She taunted him with her purring voice.

He squeezed her hand and ran off in another direction looking entirely too eager for Madeline's liking. She could not just wait outside, besides a woman should not be out on the streets of Paris that late at night.

Deciding to follow him, Madeline found herself locked outside of a dressing room door, _her_ dressing room door. He had gone in there ten minutes ago and still had not returned. Anger rushed through her veins, and she had become blind with rage and jealousy. Hatred for the girl had filled her soul.

She was about to turn and leave when the door opened and out came smiling Raoul. He saw her, and his smile faded.

"Now, Maddy, why are you not at the carriage?" He asked her playfully.

"It was too cold and dark to be out there alone." She placed her arm around his pretending she was not bothered or had not known with whom he had actually been. She found it was easier to allow everyone to falsely believe that she were dim and just another pretty face. Instead, she allowed others to squirm at her whimsical behavior. It made her husband uncomfortable, and she was happy with that.

He led her outside to the carriage and helped her inside. Raoul did not follow her inside of it; instead he instructed the driver to take her directly home to her husband and then return to pick him up.

Fuming and undoubtedly jealous of the woman, Madeline tore off her hat and flung it to the floor.

* * *

Erik rushed through the passage way toward Christine's dressing room, his hand held a single rose with a silky black ribbon tied around it. She loved him. He had never smiled so much in his life. Until tonight, his life had been a series of nightmares taunting him, but tonight it would be all over. She will rescue him from an eternity of loneliness.

His black cloak trailed behind him as he eagerly took his steps. The mirror was mere steps away when he heard a voice of a man coming from the other side. His heart pounded and his palms grew clammy.

"Little Lotte…let her mind wander…" The man walked into her room smug as could be.

"Raoul! I thought you would not recognize me!" Her voice seemed to lighten up when she spoke to this man.

"I almost did not, but how could I forget that beautiful voice of yours? You sang like an angel tonight!" Erik saw the young man kneel in front of his Christine. Christine's smile lit up the room as she spoke to him. Erik could feel the anger boiling within his chest. He dropped the rose from his grasp. She is his…his.

"Raoul, I have been visited by the Angel of Music! My father promised me he'd send me an angel! And he has!"

"No doubt! We must go to supper to celebrate! Two minutes…Little Lotte." Before Christine could resist, Raoul skipped out of the room to fetch another carriage.

_

* * *

July 18, 1875_

_I am about to go mad. One more day in this attic and I fear I must take my own life. Death is inevitable, but it may need to come sooner for me. I can hear the party downstairs. The laughing and carrying on of drunken upper classmen makes me sick. They have not a care in the world, when I, having done nothing to deserve such inhumane treatment, am up here wallowing in my ugliness. Every time I address my father, if he can be called such, about this, he shouts crude obscenities. Once in a while he shoves a mirror in my face shouting, "This is why I can not allow you to live among the humans! You would frighten them all away, you stupid boy!" I can not bear to see myself. I am a monster. However, I have found a small comfort in the books that have been placed up here after my mother's death. They were all hers. My father could not bear the sight of them after she had died. I have taught myself how to read music from going through her piano sheet music. I believe it would do me well to test my skills on a real piano. I will attempt to do so tonight. Yes, tonight is the night. My father will probably be too drunk to realize that I have come to walk among the humans as he likes to say. _

Madeline wiped the tears from her eyes. She could feel the torment of the innocent boy who had written in this small handmade book, but she could also feel the sting of rejection from earlier that evening. However, as she sat in the attic with the makeshift book, a sense of calm came over her.

It was strange that such a cold dark place could give her such comfort. Reading the book made her not feel as alone.

Raoul had broken her sense of hope and happiness. Now she felt entirely alone except for the boy who was an inhabitant of this small room. She felt him within the walls; she could feel the despair and the anger. It was unlike any feeling she had ever known.

* * *

"Insolent boy! How dare he share in my triumph?" Christine's Angel's voice boomed throughout the room in an angry wrath.

"Angel, he does not know…I'm sorry, when you speak, I listen. It is you that I need!" She practically whimpered her response.

"Would you be so inclined to say such things if you saw who your Angel is?" His voice suddenly calmed into its more soothing coo.

"Oh yes, Angel! I have longed to see you!"

"Very well…"

As if by magic a man came through the mirror holding out his black leather gloved hand. Absently, Christine took his hand with her eyes glued to his. She was speechless at the sight of his tall dark physique. His eyes were glowing yellow, yet somehow dark and icy. This was not how she envisioned her Angel would look, but from what she could see, he was perfect. He wore dark dress clothes that were at the height of Parisian fashion and a black cloak. His hair was slicked back and dark as night.

He was leading her down a long corridor. Christine did not allow herself to wonder where he was taking her. He was her Angel, her guardian.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, the story is coming along slowly, but it should get a few more updates soon, since i am finished with school! Have a great day!

* * *

Chapter 5

Months had passed since Christine had disappeared the night of her debut, and Raoul was feeling a sense of hopelessness. Either the Phantom was real or Christine was going mad. She would rant and rave about darkness and masked men. Raoul could not understand what it was she was going through. At times it seemed as though Christine might be trying to avoid him.

On a bitter wintry night upon the roof of the opera house, Raoul had confessed his undying love for her and had, in more than one word, proposed to her. Christine, of course, obliged, leaving Raoul with a sense of closure, but it seemed that there was still distance between them. It was a cold and dark distance that plagued their relationship. Raoul was fighting the darkness and was without a doubt, losing.

While Christine began shrinking further and further away, Raoul had developed a strong friendship with Madeline. He began to fill the void with hours of laughter and conversation with her. Jacob did not disapprove, for her liked the fellow that kept his wife busy for hours at a time. Most of the time he would check up on them, of course, giving Madeline's nature, but he never felt a cause for alarm.

"I just do not know what to do. I get close to her then she shies away. What would cause such a thing, Maddy?" He paced back and forth with an odd sense of urgency.

"Raoul, why don't you just sit, relax and have a drink?" She poured him a tall glass of wine and sat on the sofa. He finally sat down next to her and took the glass from her hand.

"Do you think she loves me?" He looked a Madeline pleadingly.

"I suppose at least in some way she does. Why else would she agree to marry you? Of course it could not be the money or the status? Or could it?" She covered her mouth and giggled.

"Maddy, your sarcasm does not amuse me." He gulped down the remainder of his wine and reached for the bottle until Madeline stopped him and grabbed his hand as if the bottle were to burn him.

"Well, what if there really is an Opera Ghost of some sort? Maybe she is in love with him, but refuses to hurt you?" He looked at her as if some one had died. "...Think about it…she disappears after her performance for days, she calls him her angel, and she is embarrassed to wear your ring, yet she always wears that other ring, and you do not even know where she got it. Now you do not think for one second that she bought that ring herself? A ballet dancer can not afford that type of jewelry."

"Y…you're right. There does have to be someone else." Raoul stopped and stared blankly as if in deep thought.

She swept the hair that was dangling in his face, "Don't worry, Raoul…there will be plenty of others for an eligible bachelor such as yourself." She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing.

His eyes met hers and he leaned in close. Eventually their lips met, but it was nothing like that brief eruption of passion that had happened all those months ago. It was shy, powerful, and tender. Slowly his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer to him.

Desire was pumping through her veins. She had waited for this moment for too long. Finally, she had gotten what she wanted. His hands began to fumble with her dress as his kisses had become deeper and harder.

Raoul could not grasp the button and the lace long enough to make any progress so he resorted to lifting her skirts up to her waist. The moment was becoming more intense and even more desperate for both of them. Raoul longed to be loved in return and Madeline longed to feel his love.

Madeline decided, if she could not have his whole person, she may as well settle for his body. He was on top of her by now, struggling with one arm as the other one held him up, to unbutton his trousers. Madeline smiled and managed to help him reveal the desire that was pulsating underneath those unforgiving trousers. The passion rose and fell as they made love.

Afterwards, he laid his head on her chest and listened to her heart beat softly. He wished it was Christine with every inch of his flesh. He felt guilty for doing so, but instead of Maddy, he envisioned Christine underneath him as he thrust himself into her.

Then as if he just remembered something he sat up and began to straighten out his clothing.

"What are you doing?" asked Madeline seeing the look of concern on Raoul's normally calm face.

"Jacob! What if he…"

"He is not here! He's in Rouen, settling an estate deal." She felt desperate. She did not want him to leave; she wanted to spend her time with him and only him.

"Oh…I must go anyway. Take care, Maddy." He had kissed her on the forehead just seconds before he walked out the door.

Madeline did not move, just merely watched the door, close to tears. As the seconds passed, she could feel anger deep within her erupt. A horrible searing feeling rip her up the middle. She wanted to break something…everything. Jealousy whipped itself up inside of her, churning until she wanted to strangle the very life out of the little chorus girl's body.

Hopelessly, she grabbed the bottle from the table and gulped the remainder of the liquid inside. It burned so good.

Awkwardly, she made her way into the bedroom, grasping at what she could to keep her balance. Crawled into bed, and dared not get up for the rest of the daylight.

* * *

"Christine, you do not love him! You love me; I can see it in your eyes…or is that pity, pity for the creature that will forever want you, yet must live with out you? Such a cruel jest the world has played on me!"

Christine let the Phantom rant behind the mirror. She barely heard his words, yet, she could hear his feet stomping back and forth on the cold damp stone. How was it that she did not hear his footsteps before? Was she so consumed by his music that every humanly thing about him was irrelevant to her at the time?

She had not spoken to him in months. Everyday, he had come to see her, in hopes that she would talk to him. He dared not come from behind the mirror. For he feared if he did, he would find her frightened of him even more.

Erik was losing a battle that he had no idea he would be fighting. That boy would have never noticed his Christine had he not made arrangements for her to sing. Erik cursed himself for his stupidity. He could not keep her from the world forever. He should have known if he had taught her to sing that beautifully that there would be suitors and men hovering around his little Christine.

He could not bottle up this despair and anguish any longer. Feeling like a fool, Erik quickly turned and made the decent into his dark unfeeling world of the night.

Pacing back and forth, his organ taunted him as it displayed the unfinished masterpiece, Don Juan Triumphant. Anger pulsated in his veins, and he finally gave in to writing the menacing score. The notes poured out of his fingertips in a frantic mad melody filled with passion and treachery. Despair clung onto every note as he jotted them down.

As the night wore on, sleep attempted to take over the madman hammering away on the organ's keys. By dawn, he had finished his masterpiece that had taken him years to complete. Finally, he had completed the vicious score and tonight, he would instruct the managers of the opera to display it in front of the Paris' finest patrons.

Tomorrow was the annual masquerade. In the past, Erik had often walked among the superior beings and no one knew of the monster behind the mask. This time, they would notice him…

* * *

"Madeline!" Jacob's voice pounded inside Madeline's already aching skull. She rolled over into the comfort of the soft blankets, ignoring Jacob's calls. He would be there in mere seconds to badger her about something or other anyway.

She had slept in her dress last night. Raoul's scent still lingered in the fabric, a wonderful musk. Taking in a deep breath, she buried herself deeper within the blankets.

"Madeline! What are you still doing in bed?" Jacob's footsteps came closer to the bed.

Slowly, Madeline rolled to face him, "What concern is it of yours?"

"Get out of bed, Madeline. I demand it and get out of that dress!"

"I will do no such thing, Jacob! Go away and leave!" Her voice heightened into a slight rage as she got up to kneel on the bed. Her hair was disheveled into a blonde mess.

Jacob did not speak again; instead he grasped her wrist and pulled her mercilessly from the bed. His fingers burned her skin as he jerked her from the bed.

"Jacob! I swear to you…" He dragged her along the wooden floor then pulled her up to stand.

"What Madeline? What?" He had her gripped by her shoulders. Fragments of saliva landed on her face.

"What are you going to do, Madeline? Hurt me?" He laughed.

She pulled away from him and began to move away from him, holding her wrist to her body. Sheer fear shown in her green eyes, she had never felt threatened by Jacob before. Normally, he would just disregard her as drunk, but not today. Today ferocity burned within his being.

"Take off this disgusting dress." He made his way towards her, but she dodged his pursuit.

He had caught her in a corner and began tugging at the strings and lace that held her dress together, "What went on last night, Madeline? Why could you not find the time to get undressed?"

"Nothing you should be concerned about." She pushed back tears and held in sobs as he tore away at her.

Unexpectedly, she felt a pelt of pain across her face. Jacob had hit her. Her hand shot up to block another blow as she fell to the floor. What had provoked this change in him? Did he know about Raoul? Did one of the servants tip him off, or was he just simply tired of her antics? She did not know and certainly was not going to ask.

"Stop! Stop, I will do it. I'll do it!" He finally fell away from her in an exhausted heap on the floor.

"Very well then, proceed." His voice was crackled and weak.

Madeline could not hold in the sobs any longer. Hysterically, she began to cry, feeling the side of her swollen face.

Jacob stood over her, looming over her with iciness, "Tomorrow, we are to go to the masquerade, and you will not embarrass me!"

He left her there, in the corner, violated and tormented. Hatred coursed through her veins and her heart leaped through her chest. Quietly, she sobbed. She was, yet again alone. She yearned for Raoul's gentle touch.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Chapter 6

Madeline stood silently in front of the mirror, dressed as the perfect Helen of Troy. Her hair was primped and curled to sheer beauty. The toga was a shimmering gold with lace wrapped around to extenuate her best features. Of course Jacob had forced her to wear it, but there was not doubt that it was beautiful.

Her eyes rose from the dress' shimmering glory and slowly rose to her face. Her hand felt the tender area on her left side where Jacob had struck her. It was horrible looking. The eye was semi swollen, and the direct contact point was red and bruised. The pain and the bruising followed along her cheek bone. A solitary tear rolled down her face in hidden anguish. She was stronger than this, she told herself as she wiped away the tear.

"At least I am able to wear the mask tonight."

Golden and lined in glowing rhinestones, the mask lied on the bed. She took it up in her hands running her fingers over its beauty. Placing it on her face, she felt comfort in knowing that it covered the bruises.

"Madeline, are you ready yet?" Jacob came in the room dressed as Menelaus. He looked perfect for the part. The king of Sparta, arrogant and overbearing. His costume was that of silver, and less beauty held within in its armor and plain silver mask.

"You do know, Jacob that Helen does not end up with Menelaus in the end?" She purred from beneath her mask almost emotionless, yet ignoring his question.

"What is that supposed to mean, Madeline?" His defenses were put up and there was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Oh nothing, dear husband, my words mean _nothing_." She bitterly spat the words at him as she walked across the room and out of the door.

"Let's get this night over with. I do not want to hear anymore of you insults or your innuendos. I refuse you to drink whilst you are there. No one needs to know that you are an unsuitable wife for their Marquis."

"If I am so unsuitable, then why did you marry me?"

"Just- oh hello, Amelie!" Jacob stopped mid sentence as Amelie ran up the staircase past the unhappy couple. He eyed her intensely and she looked up at him slightly.

"Bonjour, sir." Amelie focused her eyes back to the floor and did not even acknowledge Madeline as she rushed past them both.

No more words were spoken the remainder of the walk to the carriage. Jacob opened the carriage door and allowed Madeline to enter, just as a gentleman should. He followed in shortly behind.

Madeline sat as far away from him as possible in that small dark space. Still masked and feeling uneasy about the evening, she stared blankly out at the small window. The moon was a full circle of silver. A strange calmness radiated from it that she was thankful for.

Breaking the silence, Jacob looked at Madeline, "You look gorgeous tonight, you know that?"

"Ha! You should look under this mask! Do not attempt to flatter me, so I forgive you. It will not happen. From this point on you mean nothing to me!" She barked back at him and resumed her position on the other side of the carriage.

Anger boiled inside Jacob's veins, but he just let her words bounce off of him. He was getting too old and tired of her antics. All he knew was that she better not act out in front of the Parisian society's finest tonight or she would be sorry.

* * *

Red Death stalked the Vicomte and Christine through out the halls of the Opera House since Raoul had arrived. Following each of their carefree steps, and scowling at each of their soft kisses and lovers' giggles. Nausea flooded his body.

The masquerade was about to start and the guests were arriving full force. Erik stood in the shadows and watched the guests from the top of the staircase. They seemed ready for a night full of sin and exposure to their inner fantasies.

He recognized none of them as he watched them try to guess one another's identity. Pitiful creatures, they have not a care in the world, he thought to himself almost arrogantly.

As the night wore on, he discreetly remained in the upper room, as long as Raoul and Christine were present. He stood against the wall, arms folded, eyeing them closely. Through out the night, many women had attempted to dance with the dark mysterious figure that stood stoically, but he would not have it. He could not attempt to take his eyes away from the woman he truly loved.

Then he noticed a woman standing across the room, all in gold, watching Raoul and Christine with the same intensity as himself. Could she be scorned too? In her hand, she held a glass of wine, subtly sipping from it and occasionally looking over her shoulder as if she were trying to avoid someone.

For one brief moment, their eyes met. Erik's heart began to pound in his chest as he pulled his eyes away from hers. He regained his focus on his one and only Christine.

"I see we are both fixated on the same thing, Monsieur." He heard the soft purr of a female voice next to him. His eyes glanced in her direction. She was the petite woman with beautiful blonde hair. Her eyes were a striking green and it looked as though she was up to something.

He was about to speak, until he noticed she was no longer looking at him but staring at the happy couple dancing in the middle of the floor. The music stopped and as the couple looked into each other's eyes, they kissed softly. Erik's heart practically tore out of his chest and broke into unrecognizable pieces on the marble flooring.

The woman seemed to have been taken back by the view of the couple because she drew in a sharp deep breath.

"They really need to flaunt it, do they not?" She turned to look up at Erik. He could see the moisture of tears in her eyes.

"Helen of Troy" He blurted out while attempting to regain his composure.

"What?" Madeline looked at him as if he was mad, but his voice was deep and intense.

"You are dressed as Helen of Troy. Where is Menelaus, or is it Paris you are with?"

"Neither. I do not associate with such…rubbish." She waved her hand in dismissal.

"That ring on your finger tells me otherwise. Now what relationship do you have with this Vicomte?"

"Well what relationship is the ballet rat to you?" Her defense was up. They hardly looked at one another as they stared at the couple in the middle of the room.

Erik looked at the couple one last time then looked down at the woman in front of him, her eyes demanding an answer.

He remained silent as he stared into her eyes. She noticed his fiery yellow orbs as he gazed. She swallowed hard as his black gloved hand touched the side of her face. His thumb began making its way beneath her mask. Her eyes closed in anticipation, feeling the soft way he touched her. He lifted the mask slightly from her face but enough to see the bruises.

He saw the swollen part of her face right before she was pulled away from him by none other than Menelaus. Erik tried his hardest not to go after her, as she was being violently pulled in another direction. The bruises he witnessed had made his blood run cold, had it been the Vicomte who had done such a thing? No, she would not have looked at him as she did; it had to have been that wretched fool who tore her away from him. He would one day pay for his violence, but for now Christine was what Erik was after.

There was nothing he could do for the woman at the moment, for if he did his plans would be ruined. He glanced up to see that Christine and Raoul were no where to be found. He rushed to the balcony and found them in the lower level. Christine was holding some sort of chain around her neck. It seemed as though the young lovers were troubled. Erik grinned maliciously at the thought. Trouble in paradise…it gave him a sliver of hope, but it was quickly revoked when he saw them resume dancing to the joyous sickening noise that these people called music.

Humiliation and hatred stormed throughout his entire body. He felt like a fool for feeling that there was even the slightest bit of hope. How could such a monstrosity think for a second something as beautiful as Christine could possibly want him? Adrenaline caught up with him. He tore his sword from its sheath and made his way menacingly down the staircase. He was so blind with rage that he hardly noticed the patrons staring at him in complete horror. He stopped and looked slightly around, and proceeded to finish his descent to the bottom of the staircase.

"Why so silent?" He barked at the over privileged patrons. "I am merely Masked Red Death passing. You have nothing to fear, do you?"

He whipped his sword toward the lead tenor, Piangi. It seemed as though the whole ballroom gasped in unison. It was enough to put a smile on Red Death's face.

Erik proceeded down the remainder of the stairs, explaining his opera and demanded it be performed. He threw the script to one of the managers of the opera house as well as all of his opinions and demands of the performers.

Finally his demands fell silent as his eyes met Christine's. She seemed enticed by him and began to approach the madman with a look of longing across her features. His menacing appearance melted as he approached her. His eyes stared back into hers and it seemed that just for a moment, the Phantom would have what he desired. His eyes fell to the chain that was placed around her beautiful throat then to her hand. The ring he had given her was gone.

"You are still mine!" In one swift move he tore the chain and the ring from her throat and disappeared in a gust of smoke.

There were screams of panic as the events unfolded. Raoul had taken Christine in his arms to comfort her. She was visibly upset. Tears ran down her smooth cheeks. Raoul was going to get rid of this menace no matter what the cost. He couldn't bear to see her like this. It had to end.

* * *

Jacob's grip tightened around Madeline's small wrist. She attempted to wriggle free but to no avail. It was useless. Even though Jacob was much older and not in the best shape, her petite body was no match for his strength. She tore at his gray ponytail trying to dissuade him from gripping her wrist so tight.

"I told you not to make a scene, Maddy! I have had it with all of the childish antics!" He roared as they made their way outside. He shoved her violently into the carriage and he followed shortly after.

"You are the one making the scene!" She spat back.

As she tried her hardest to get as far away from him as possible, he sat right next to her. His hands went up to the mask and tore it from her face and grabbed her face to turn her toward him.

"Leave me alone, Jacob!" She screamed, "Just leave me alone!"

"Is this what you want?" He pulled her skirt up and began to fondle her most intimate parts. She attempted to push him away, but was too weak to help herself.

"Is this what you wanted from that man tonight? I saw the way you were looking at each other. Have you met before? Do you think me a fool, Madeline?" He pushed himself on top of her, and began to release the tension from his trousers beneath his toga.

"Is this what you wanted? Answer me!" he screamed at her as he penetrated her.

"No!" She cried out. She kicked and pushed him but he was no match. She finally gave up and allowed him to have his way with her. She was too tired to fight him any longer. Madeline closed her eyes and imagined it was Raoul. Raoul would have never touched her like this. Silent tears fell down her cheeks.

When he was finished, he slowly released her and sat up straight. "There, now you got what you wanted. Hope you are as satisfied as I, my dear"

She did not answer; she simply composed herself and sat at the opposite end of the carriage. The remainder of the ride was silent. She sobbed occasionally, feeling violated and ruined.

It sickened Madeline to see Jacob sitting their proudly with no remorse on his face at all. She wanted to kill him, murder him. He sat there fat, proud, and disgusting.

When they arrived home, Madeline quickly exited the carriage and ran off. She ran as fast as she could up the staircases. Her mind was racing, and her heart beating. The need to get away from that man was so great it made her heart pound violently in her chest. The servants watched in complete confusion. They had never seen their mistress like this.

She made her way up the final staircase that led into the attic. During the last few months, she had made adjustments to the place where she felt safest. On the blankets she had put down for comfort, she collapsed feeling relief rush over her. She reached under the blankets and pulled out the journal of the attic's former resident. It always brought her comfort. Right now she would try anything.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

She awoke in a start. A loud ruckus reverberated through her skull. Sitting up quickly, she saw what looked like a man's shadow go to the corner to camouflage itself. Madeline had seen what caused the noise in the solitary candle's light. The small wooden table that she had set up next to the window was tipped completely over.

Her body felt paralyzed as if she stayed still the problem would go away. She knew it wouldn't.

"Hello? Who's there?" A loud clap of thunder made her jump, allowing her body to move after what seemed like an eternity. Rain began pouring through the open window. Madeline got up cautiously and closed it. The room was still.

"Is there any one there?" She had some false hope that it was Raoul, knowing her despair, coming to rescue her from all of this. She tiptoed towards the corner that the shadow had hid itself. She shook uncontrollably; tears were running down her cheek as she walked towards what felt like her doom, but something also pulled her. She could not turn away. As she walked, she held in her breath, and soon enough she could hear another's ragged breathing.

She turned to run, but he had stopped her. They were definitely a man's arms wrapped tightly around her; his hand over her mouth. She felt the man tremble and pull his hand slightly away when he felt that she was heavy with child.

"Shhh…silence. Don't scream." His voice sounded defeated and exhausted, yet soothing and familiar. Her back was against his chest. His breathing was slow yet shallow, as though he had been crying.

"If I take my hand away, just stay silent. I am not going to harm you. I just needed a place to run to." He slowly let go of her. Taking his hand slightly from her mouth to test if she would make a sound, then he let her completely free.

"Who are you?" she asked curiously trying to see into the shadows.

"I am no one. I will leave you alone; do not try to see my face. I would appreciate that."

"And I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in my house, monsieur."

"You will be better off not knowing. Now, if I were you, Madame, I would go to your chambers while I am feeling rather benevolent." He spat at her in rising anger.

"I beg your pardon, monsieur, but this is my home!"

"Plea-please, just leave me." She heard his body slump to the boarded floor. She felt pity for this unknown man.

He seemed harmless despite his threats. Although she loathed being among her husband and his friends, she left the poor creature alone.

* * *

Erik slumped to the ground and was able to relax when he heard the woman leave him in his solitude once again. He was back where he started; this hellish place he had once called home. Once he heard the door close behind her, he crept quietly out of the shadows toward the makeshift bed she was sleeping in when he had crawled out of the darkness and into her candlelight.

He collapsed into the pile of blankets. His heart was aching and longing again for Christine. It was really over. There was no way she would ever want him back now.

Erik had threatened Raoul's life in a desperate attempt to keep him and Christine together. Jealousy still flooded his being. He shoved his hand into his pocket and took out the beautiful ruby ring he had given Christine. This was the only thing he had left from her now. He wanted to die…there was no longer a reason for living. She was his breath, his heart beat, his everything. Erik no longer felt music rising and falling with in every sound around him. It was now dead silent, something he had always feared. The one person that could have saved him from his loneliness denied him.

Exhausted and upset, he fell into a restless sleep with endless nightmares.

* * *

Madeline crept up the wooden staircase to the attic. Curiosity kept her spinning in the sheets all night long. Who was that man? So many thoughts were twisting in her skull. She needed to know if he was still there.

Each step seemed like an eternity and every crack seemed louder than normal. She clenched her petticoat to her crossing her arms as some sort of defense mechanism. Holding her breath, she reached the top. Her eyes fell on the man, lying shivering and crumpled in her heap of blankets. His face was nuzzled into the blankets therefore she could not see who he was, but thankfully he seemed to not hear her arrival.

She took an extra blanket from a crate and lightly laid it over the trembling stranger. He seemed to be a tall, muscular built man. He could probably tear her in two if he so wished. She decided she would take that chance and stay until he awoke.

Madeline sat reading a book that she had found in a pile in one corner of the basement when suddenly she heard the stranger stir. She quickly put the book down, and hid behind a stack of crates.

Erik awoke, momentarily forgetting what had happened the night before, he stood and stretched. Then, he remembered the whole thing. Christine! Why…how could she leave him?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw slight movement. He turned quickly, and in one swift, catlike advance he was on top of Madeline. When he saw it was the woman from the night before, he stood up and lifted his hand to his face.

She backed away meek and uneasy.

"I told you to leave me! How long were you here!!" Erik howled in what was more despair than anger.

For the first time, the woman intruder looked up at him. It was her. He would recognize those eyes anywhere, Helen of Troy.


End file.
